


Knowing

by bjbookcase



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 09:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13385037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjbookcase/pseuds/bjbookcase
Summary: Written for the VAMB Drabble/Ficlet Exchange 2007. First line provided by Cheshire who asked for either J/C or J/P romance or friendship. I decided to mix things up a bit and play with a combination of those possibilities.





	Knowing

**Timeline:** Not long after the journey began.

* * *

Janeway knew the moment she saw the look on his face. Not that this surprised him. Not when the evidence was lying on the ground between them. He wasn’t the holographic doctor with emotions that only ranged from A to B.

“Report, Mister Paris.”

Paris sat back on his heels. “It’s not good, Captain. But it’s not as bad as it could be, either.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Janeway looked the epitome of detached professional, but Paris caught the slight tremor in her voice. Interesting, he noted.

“I’ve pumped him full of as much sedative as I dare,” he replied, “but with nothing more than a standard medkit, this is going to be crude and messy. We really need to build something better equipped than a shuttlecraft.”

“I have every confidence in your medical skills, Lieutenant.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Lieutenant . . .”

“Sorry, Captain. Just a bit nervous having Commander Chakotay’s life in my hands. Again.”

A soft moan, followed by a slight shift in Chakotay’s position, pre-empted any response Janeway might have made. In a move as fluid as one choreographed, she and Paris both reached out and put a restraining hand on one of the commander’s shoulders.

“Easy, big guy,” Paris soothed. His words may or may not have affected his patient, but their effect on Janeway was immediate. Her hand jerked away as if she’d been burnt. Too bad, he thought, her touch was probably the one thing that would help calm Chakotay. Not that you’d get her to admit that.

Then again, she had offered to help.

“So, okay. As I was saying, this is going to be crude and messy.” He locked eyes with Janeway. “And painful. Which is why, Captain, I’m going to need you to talk to the commander. Better yet, I need you to touch him. Hold his hand . . . stroke his forehead. You get the idea. Anything that distracts him from what I’m doing.”

Janeway nodded. “Talk to him. I can do that. Cha . . . the commander and I talk all the time. Though I assume you’d rather I talk about something a bit more engaging than routine ship’s business?”

“Yeah, that might be best,” replied Paris. “We need him distracted, not comatose.”

He flashed Janeway a cheeky grin in response to the glare she feigned at him. Then he gently pressed her on the rest of her “duties.”

“Captain, you have to touch him, too.”

An emotion flickered across Janeway’s face that he was certain he’d misread.

“That wouldn’t be appropriate, Mister Paris.”

The voice was consummate Captain Kathryn Janeway, but the glimpse of wistfulness he’d seen now made sense. He tackled this new problem in pure Tom Paris fashion.

“Why? Because we all know you never touch any of your officers. No, not Captain —”

“You’re out of line, Mis —”

Tom cut off both her words and the very-real-this-time glare Janeway leveled at him.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t think so. I’m the ranking medical officer on this mission and I have a patient in need of treatment. Specific treatment that requires your assistance.”

“By insisting I touch a fellow officer?”

“By insisting you touch a friend. You are Chakotay’s friend, aren’t you?”

A fierce battle raged behind the guise of professionalism Janeway struggled to maintain. Watching, Paris silently cheered for the woman to win out over the officer.

Tension stretched seconds into hours until, finally, Janeway sighed and her expression softened. She slid a hand under one of Chakotay’s large, brown hands, cradling it in her own. Her other hand brushed back a dark wing of hair that had fallen over his forehead, and then fell to gently and rhythmically stroking over his tattoo. Her eyes never left the injured man when she spoke.

“You can begin now, Lieutenant.”

Paris let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yes, ma’am.” He pulled the medkit closer and began organizing his instruments and his thoughts.

“Oh, and Mister Paris . . . “

Tom looked up to find himself nailed by steely blue eyes.

“If I hear even the slightest rumor of activity on any of your betting pools, you will be scrubbing Voyager’s hull for the next seven decades. Without an environmental suit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, carefully coloring those two words with just the mix of cowed and contrite Janeway expected. Then, he dropped his head and returned to studying his instruments as quickly as he could, praying Janeway wouldn’t see the smile plastered across his face. He’d just promised away a pile of rations, but knowing what he knew now was worth every one of them. There was a woman under Kathryn Janeway’s four pips.

THE END


End file.
